


Traditions

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Grieving Hermione, Muggle Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: Draco is endlessly confused by Hermione's Christmas traditions. Until something gives and he realizes exactly why she's gone absolutely mental about Christmas.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 50
Kudos: 491
Collections: Completed/Downloaded/Read Works, D/Hr Advent 2020





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Musyc and all her tireless effort with this incredible advent. And congrats on a decade of DHr Advent! What an incredible accomplishment! 
> 
> I also want to thank anyone who sent in a nomination for me! It's such an honor to be included! 
> 
> Finally, thank you to my beta KHLolitaWeasley! Your eyes and attention are so appreciated :D
> 
> My prompts were: Hot Chocolate and Wreaths

It had certainly surprised everyone— including himself— when Granger had taken up with Draco Malfoy. To be honest, he was sure she’d hated every fibre of his being during their eighth year together. Draco was convinced she sat at his table in the library and walked with him between classes for the sole purpose of driving him mental.    
  
But during those quiet times is when he began falling madly and irrevocably in love with her. It was in a thousand details he’d not noticed until then. He was enamored with the exact shape of her eyes when she laughed— usually at him— and the way she’d clutch to her stomach in a moment of pure hysteria. He loved the way she munched on sugar quills when she studied and the small wrinkle that formed between her brows. 

And as the year had drug on and she didn’t leave his side, he had convinced himself that he was a charity case akin to her beloved House Elves. 

Then, at Christmas, she’d just… kissed him. 

Light. Like it was something they’d done every day. That single brush of her lips had sent him careening over a precipice he knew he’d never fully recover from. His eyes had widened fractionally before he banded his arms around her waist and pulled their bodies flush together. He’d not ever really considered letting her go after that. And for the following three-hundred and sixty-four days, he did just that.

It’d been the most perfect year that Draco Malfoy could remember having and despite all of his vast character flaws and mistakes, he’d had a life he had been sure he’d never call his own. Granger had given him more than he deserved and while he had an impressive pile of gifts for her to open the following morning, he had nothing that would ever  _ really _ pay her back for all she’d done for the miserable git that he was. 

He’d found that her Christmas traditions were rather… odd. Muggles really did enjoy doing things in the most difficult way possible. As such, when Draco entered Granger’s flat on Christmas Eve, he was shocked silent. The normally orderly space was an absolute mess. Ribbon and wrapping paper were strewn about the floor, scissors, and tape laying haphazardly across every surface available. There was a tray of burned cookies smoking on the stove and his witch, in all her frizzy glory was in the middle of it. 

The look on her face was one of complete and utter stress; her hair was tied up in a wild knot, her wand stuck in the nest of it all. He was quite certain she hadn’t changed her clothes since last he saw her but he dared not ask. 

Draco had tried many times, in vain, to explain to the witch that there were simple charms to handle the business of wrapping gifts but alas, Hermione Granger was a force to be reckoned with.    
  
“Granger?”

The witch waved him off dismissively before exclaiming, “ _ Aha!” _ and lifting a box in the air triumphantly. “I knew I misplaced this one.” 

Draco toed an empty gift bag out of the way and walked over to the stove to click it off. “Love, what happened? It looks as though your Christmas exploded.” 

“Might have done,” she mumbled as she fell to the floor cross-legged and took a pair of scissors between her teeth. She unfurled a roll of gaudy red wrapping paper with glittering snowflakes and placed the box in the middle. “I just have a few left.” 

Watching her carefully, Draco was reminded of the last time he’d seen her enclosed in such frenetic energy. It had been during their N.E.W.T.s last spring, and he had sworn she’d dropped at least nearly a stone of weight she hadn’t been afforded to lose. 

“Maybe we ought to take a break,” he tried cautiously, knowing full well that a sneer was awaiting him. 

“When I’m done, perhaps.” 

Draco crossed the room and kneeled in front of her just as she ripped off a piece of tape with her teeth and closed the folds around the box. “Granger, look at me.” 

With an exasperated sigh, her shoulders fell with a huff and she glared at him. “What, Malfoy? I need to finish these if we are still going to bake and decorate cookies tonight, and Mom always made a proper Beef Wellington—” 

“What?” he choked and began violently shaking his head. “No.  _ No. _ We’ll get takeaway. You don’t need to—” 

Something snapped and rage flittered across her features. “I do need to! Can’t you see that?  _ I do need to. _ ”

The air between them shifted and a heaviness settled over his chest as he watched her heaving in short, sharp breaths. 

As quickly as her ire had descended, it lifted. The hazy look in her eyes vanished, and a broad smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “You’re right. I do need a break.” 

Uneasiness churned in Draco’s belly. Surely the bloke had been right before but Granger wasn’t usually one to offer it up so easily. “Okay… let’s go get some—” 

“Hot chocolate!” 

“I was going to say food, Granger. You need to eat something other than burnt cookies.” 

“No, I want hot chocolate. Come on.” The witch scrambled to her feet and summoned her cloak with wandless magic. She didn’t change her clothes or fuss with her curls, just shoved her feet in a pair of boots by the door and left. 

Draco watched in confusion but when it seemed she wasn’t coming back, he followed her out into the white blanketed landscape of Wizarding London. 

xXx

Snow fell in fat snowflakes around the couple as they made their way down Diagon Alley. Granger shivered and stared out at the horizon. She was quiet, which was uncharacteristic for her, and Draco couldn’t place why on earth he felt like he was missing a vital piece of information.

Above the alley twinkled hundreds of small lights and each lamp post boasted an obnoxiously large red ribbon and a wreath, each one decorated by a different shop in Diagon Alley. There was a contest for the best-decorated wreath and it had been one of Draco’s favorite traditions growing up. 

Flourish and Blotts’ had small folded stars from pages trapped in the pine needles and an open book of Christmas stories in the middle. Sugarplum Sweets stuffed theirs with truffles and lollies of every variety, and Quality Quidditch Supplies had charmed a small figurine on a broom to chase a snitch in endless circles up and down the lamppost. 

The one outside the Leaky Cauldron seemed to catch Granger’s attention, and she paused, staring strangely at the frothy butterbeer that was resting on the inside of the wreath.

“Love?” Draco said finally, reaching back to rub at his neck. “Did you want to get the hot chocolate, then?”

“Hmm?” When her gaze landed on him, he could see tears welling in her lashes. 

“You wanted hot chocolate, remember?”

“Yes. Right,” she said with a hollow laugh. “Would you mind terribly grabbing them? I need a moment, I think.” 

“Right. I’ll just… I’ll be right back. You stay here, okay?” Draco leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

Stomping the snow from his boots, Draco slipped into the Leaky and ordered two hot chocolates, one with extra marshmallows, and threw a few knuts down on the counter. Tom returned a moment later with the two cups. 

“Happy Christmas,” Draco mumbled. His thoughts still with his witch waiting out in the cold. 

As soon as he stepped back into the snow, his heart sank. Even from here, he could see the tears coating her cheeks. Her shoulders were shaking, fingers closed over her lips as silent sobs wracked through her body.

“Granger?” He rushed to her side, searching her for some sign of distress. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” she cried, wiping at the tears on her cheeks frantically. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” 

“Bullshit. Something is going on, and I don’t know why you won’t tell me. Let me—” He paused when he could see the pain etched into her features. “Let me help.” 

“It’s my parents. I just… I miss them horribly. It’s worse around Christmas, I think.” 

He remained silent, waiting. Grangers’ eyes lifted to stare at the wreath hanging on the lamppost again, and his stomach twisted painfully as he watched her.

“My mum loved wreaths. Every year we’d purchase a new one for the front door, each one more tacky than the last, much to my father’s dismay.”

Granger stopped, her jaw trembling. “Do you think she still remembers to do that? Even if she doesn’t remember me… do you think she remembers the wreaths?”

Draco sucked in a sharp breath, fighting off tears of his own. He didn’t know how to answer. 

“Then on Christmas Eve, Dad made a batch of his hot chocolate. Every year.” 

The cups in his hands suddenly felt more important and Draco moved in closer and wrapped his arms around the trembling witch, pressing a kiss to her curls. “You’re okay, love. I’m here.” 

“It’s not fair,” she whispered, fingers curling in his cloak.    
  
Truer words had never been spoken because for a girl who’d given so much to everyone, she didn’t deserve this too. Draco stepped back and held out the cup to her. “You’re right. It’s not. I’m so sorry, Granger.” 

Suddenly, Draco had new purpose. He might never be able to properly repay the witch for all she’d given him, but he would spend every galleon he had to try and recover her parent’s memories. If that didn’t work, he endeavored to spend every Christmas Eve in a mess of wrapping paper with two hot chocolates and a new wreath for her door. 

  
  
  



End file.
